


Experiment: Neutralizer Orb

by GoblinCatKC



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: To avoid the wrath of his brothers and being grounded, Leonardo gives in to Donatello's punishment--a private pole dance. But then Donatello adds a chain. And Leonardo nearly ends up choked. And Donatello gets a very selfish idea for a new series of experiments.
Relationships: Donatello/Leonardo (TMNT)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	Experiment: Neutralizer Orb

**Author's Note:**

> This is serious PWP scifi inexplicable bondage dubcon porn. Written in response to a flame. If I get another one of those flames, I'll toss off another pwp.

"Oh no...I have to guinea pig for you again?"

Despite his groan, Leonardo still walked into Donatello's lab, closing the door firmly behind himself. And then made sure it was locked. And the latch thrown. 

"Once again, you fail to understand the absolute depths of my genius."

From his steel tube bunk, Donatello looked up from his tech journal, watching his brother over the top of the page. He'd left the lab dark on purpose, putting his displays on sleep mode, covering the circuitboards littering his workstation with dropcloths to keep curious brothers away. A small booklight clipped to his journal, the glow from under the door, the radiant background light so dim that it cast a sparse gloom over the lab...

And the tiny blinking lights along his techbo, standing upright with the reflective neutralizer orb deployed at the top. Or, as the layman would call it, a disco ball.

"The only fail here is your so-called genius," Leonardo sighed. "How'd you even get it to stand straight up like that?"

"It's my staff," Donatello said, unclipping the booklight and tossing his journal aside. "It wouldn't dare not stand."

"That logic is seriously suspicious," Leonardo said. "And you better not turn on that ridiculous disco 'orb'. It goes on, everyone else in the lair notices, and you promised no one else would see me doing...this."

"My promise is as inflexible as your punishment," Donatello said. "Don't even think you're getting out of this on such a flimsy pretense. The walls are soundproof, the door is hermetically sealed—"

"Uh..." Leonardo gestured at the glow from under the door. "Soundproof? Seriously?"

"So it's practically hermetically sealed," Donatello insisted. "Whatever. No one's gonna see. The only question is, am I going to see? Or are you going to quote unquote wuss out?"

Leonardo folded his arms, glaring at the floor. 

"No wussing here. You're the one still talking."

"Now that's the 'can do' attitude that got you into this situation in the first place."

Donatello swung his legs over the tube, sliding out of the bunk with the lightness that came from not wearing one of his backpacks. In the safety of his workshop, there was no reason to wear a steel shell over his soft leather carapace, and he moved with a light, giddy step that brought him to his brother's side quickly.

"I don't think I need to recount every single mistake that brought you to this precipice of humiliation," Donatello said, wagging his index finger in Leonardo's face. "Mikey's video game, my pastrami alfredo with the most divine white wine sauce seriously how could you, and Raph's...whatever it was—he really wasn't coherent by the time I got there."

Leonardo dutifully hung his head, but the smile twitching at his mouth betrayed his real feelings. Unrepentant. Unashamed. Completely without guilt.

So this was the only revenge Donatello could take, and he felt honorbound to exact that revenge for his brothers as well. Nevermind that no one else would see this, would even hear it or know that it happened. Humiliation in the form of having to do a pole dance. Except...Donatello hadn't really expected Leonardo to show up.

"Whatever excuse you want to tell yourself," Leonardo said, shrugging. "You're the one who set the terms."

Donatello pressed his mouth to a firm line, annoyed. Wresting back control of the conversation, he reached up to his techbo and pressed a button. Whether he'd expected it or not, Leonardo was here and Donatello had planned for this.

The end of a slender chain popped out into Donatello's hand, and the chain continued to spool out into a puddle of steel on the floor. To Donatello's satisfaction, his brother flinched.

And, to his relief, didn't notice Donatello's own matching flinch. 

This was new to them—amateurish fumbling, awkwardly self-conscious of their own bodies, puns and innuendos that somehow went too far. A slip in the dark, accidental touches that slowly became less accidental. Curiosity and too much courage meant they had been each other's first kiss—stupidly hesitant, now that he looked back on it. 

After all, their burgeoning desire was nothing if not a problem to be solved, and Donatello was very good at solving problems. And yet...he knew they weren't doing this right. All of the research he did in private, in his darkened secluded lab, yielded results that didn't make any sense. Humans did things so differently—they had strange anatomy that didn't match turtle physiognomy, had soft skin that came in all the shades of pink and brown, but never green. Their hair sprouted in disgusting places and their hands—five disgustingly slim tentacles where his own fingers were firm, strong.

Watching humans felt like watching an alien culture. 

The sense of his brother standing before him, his wicked eyes glancing aside, the curve of his shell catching the edge of the light, the way Leonardo shifted on those long, long legs...

Yes. This already felt better.

Donatello brought the chain up to his brother's throat and wound it once around, clasping it with a padlock. As he slid the steel loop up into its lock, he caught the small swallow as Leonardo drank down his own nerves. And then he let the heavy lock rest on the dip of Leonardo's throat.

"You're really going through with this?" Leonardo said softly, touching the lock with his fingertips. "Gonna be kinda hard with this on."

Donatello touched the techbo once more, turning on the orb. Prismatic sparkles filled the room, pink and gold, blue and green, bright silvers and lavender spinning across the walls and over Leonardo's whole body. Leaving his brother chained to the techbo, Donatello stepped back, plopping down in his bunk with his legs over the side.

"So don't choke." Donatello smiled, bringing one knee up to his chest, resting his chin. "You said you'd make this worth it."

"Just didn't wanna get grounded," Leonardo muttered without any sincerity, putting his hand around the staff, stalling for time. "Don't I at least get a—"

They both heard the faint electronic pulse of a song slowly growing in volume. Synthesized and electronic, it provided a steady rhythm that matched Leonardo's heart. Digital waves washed over the growing tempo, smoothing over Leonardo's fading inhibition. It was just him and Donatello. Just them. 

"Hope this thing's sturdy," Leonardo murmured, tightening his grip on the bo, beginning to sway as he caught the beat.

"It's planted eleven inches deep," Donatello said. The number didn't matter, just the reassurance. Leonardo believed him. 

Then the rhythm began in earnest, and Leonardo let it make him move.

Donatello's eyes widened. They all knew Leonardo had the longest legs, but he hadn't known Leonardo could do a standing split, leaning on the pole as his foot slid higher up. Then his leg bent around the pole, and he used that tenuous grip to grasp the bo and turn upside down, catching the pole near the floor with his hands.

The move took hardly a second to execute—flawlessly. 

Donatello bit his lip. Leonardo had practiced. 

But...why? So he could try to embarrass Donatello? To make a joke out of this? To get the upper hand? To...look good while he did this?

Then Leonardo had adjusted his legs and was thrusting himself upward, catching the pole above his head, holding himself in that arched position. Still head downward, he inched himself higher, and when his legs could no longer grasp the pole, he extended them in another split, holding himself at the top of the bo by sheer strength.

The rhythm abruptly paused; the silence held for half a moment. His hands trembled.

When the music crashed back in, Leonardo let himself drop, sliding face first toward the floor.

Donatello abortively sat straight, about to come to his feet knowing he wouldn't catch him in time. 

Leonardo stopped his fall mere inches from the floor, using the momentum to swing his legs up and around, whipping himself around until he was horizontal, holding himself straight out...his legs split wide again, then swung around once more.

Aggressive, aggressive—Donatello watched with wide eyes as his brother all but assaulted the techbo, quick sudden turns that stopped on a dime, pivoted, spun long lazy circles that contracted into a whiplash, threatening to spill him until he caught himself on one bent leg.

And then the light caught the chain.

Donatello had forgotten he'd shackled his brother to the pole. He'd meant it to be humiliating, but it had become an accent to the dance. Gold flashed along the metal edge, dazzling his eyes as it followed his brother's movements. Leonardo somehow managed it in his left hand, then his right, throwing the length in the air, catching it on one foot, letting it slide down his thigh as if it were melting. Then he arched, whipping his head back so the ends of his mask flew in a neat half-circle, and the chain followed in a glimmering wave. The chain flew around the pole, then slid free again in Leonardo's fingers.

The danger finally became apparent.

The chain attached to his brother's throat. If Leonardo whipped himself one way too fast...

Unbidden, Donatello's imagination spawned a dozen scenarios of a broken neck and cracked vertebrae and strangulation over crushed tracheae. He fumbled for the remote control on his belt—he'd dropped the booklight—he couldn't find the remote—

Leonardo toppled down the pole. The slide was uncontrolled—he was slowing himself by tightening his knees on the staff, but he was breathing hard, winded, and he couldn't grab the pole as the chain tightened around himself. The chain had looped around itself several times from centrifugal force and kinked. 

The chain tightened and dug into his throat. With an edge of panic, Leonardo turned sideways so that he got his legs back underneath himself—his feet planted on the floor, but he slid several inches. He reached up with his left hand and grabbed the top of the pole, stopping his fall, but he was braced against the steel, pressing back against the techbo to relieve the pressure on his throat.

Donatello cut off the music. The lights stopped. The fantasy faded, and they were in Donatello's workshop with Leonardo a few inches away from strangling or breaking his neck.

Half up out of his seat, holding the remote up with his finger on the button...Donatello hesitated.

Paused.

Leonardo had caught himself. He was inches away from hurting himself, but he wasn't slipping any farther. As Donatello watched, Leonardo managed to gather himself again, dragging his leg back along the floor so that he could stand without risk of slipping. And then Leonardo rose up on the balls of his feet, tilted his head to one side so that the chain no longer gripped so tightly at his neck.

But he couldn't get loose. 

Several seconds passed as Donatello studied what had happened. During the dance, the chain had been looped and tossed out of the way so that Leonardo could swing his body around, but he'd lost track of where it had fallen. Somehow it had tangled around itself and wrapped around the pole. When Leonardo had slid down, it had begun to draw tight, and his brother's panicked reaction had given him the ten or twelve inches needed to avoid injury.

Disaster averted, now Leonardo was held tightly to the pole and couldn't see where the chain had gathered and kinked.

"Well now," Donatello said, putting aside the remote. "That can't be comfortable."

"Really not," Leonardo said in a strained voice, closing his eyes. "Pull this offa me?"

Donatello paused again. Considering his options.

Leonardo glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He gave a faint hopeful smile.

"Hard to dance if I'm locked up like this."

"Are you?" Donatello asked. "Locked up?"

Leonardo didn't answer. There was a dangerous curiosity to his brother's voice, and the gleam in his eye promised nothing good as Donatello came close, leaning in to see how the steel links of the chain dug into Leonardo's throat. Donatello followed the length of that chain around Leonardo's body, walking circles around him, and then vanished somewhere behind him.

After several seconds of hearing nothing, Leonardo called out, only to hear a scrape just behind his head. It was the sound of a lock sliding through several chain links and thunking shut.

"There," Donatello said, coming back into view. "Now you're not going anywhere."

"Dona—"

"No no." Donatello put a finger over Leonardo's mouth. "No, my little lab rat. I think it's time for some more experimentation. Fun time is over. Back to work."

Leonardo was still grasping the bo above his head, holding himself up. With a command of "tie extensions 5," Donatello triggered two steel cords to slip out of the bo, curve over Leonardo's wrists, then slide back into the bo. The cord tightened, and Leonardo's arms were locked securely out of Donatello's way.

"Whoa whoa," Leonardo said, "this wasn't part of the deal—I am totally calling shenanigans and—"

Another command. A steel tie came out of the bo, curved around Leonardo's mouth, then locked back into the bo. 

"I gotta admit," Donatello said, running his hand over the metal just above his brother's face. "I didn't think I'd really end up using this. I mean, a lonely genius gets to making some serious fantasy gear—the furry sites alone have some crazy intense bondage and I am nothing if not a healthy young man with healthy urges—"

"'Healthy'?"

"Tighten," Donatello commanded, and the steel wound back into the bo from both edges, forcing itself deep into Leonardo's mouth, sliding past his teeth and pulling against his cheeks. "There. That's enough out of you. This is still revenge, after all, and I think...hmm."

He bent, put his arms underneath his brother's knees and hauled him up. Leonardo winced as some of his weight pressed on his wrists and neck, but Donatello was quick to put Leonardo's legs over his shoulders. Leonardo yelped through the metal as his thighs and ass pressed against Donatello's plastron and hips.

This had gone beyond playful fumbling and nervous experimentation. Or rather, Donatello was determined to experiment, and he was a dutiful devotee of repeated trial and error.

"Tie extensions twelve through twenty."

Several cords appeared, wrapped around Leonardo's thighs, and pulled tight. As Donatello bent out from under his legs, Leonardo remained caught up in steel cords, his legs dangling over the curved bonds that pressed his thighs to his plastron and had his ass hanging in the air. One last command caught Leonardo's ankles and held them down so that he could no longer move at all. Only his fingers could twitch, and Leonardo watched Donatello walk slow circles around him, studying his handwork, tapping and tugging on the techbo to make sure everything was secure. 

"I'm sure you realize what's about to happen." Donatello's voice turned breathy, in awe of his own daring and capability. "I mean...I had thought about this. I won't lie—I had dreams about this working. If you saw my blueprints for this...but I didn't think I could actually..."

Donatello stood straight, suddenly very serious as he faced Leonardo. 

"I'm not letting you out of this for a long time."

There was a faint struggle. His brother's hands strained and his arms and legs tensed. Leonardo seemed less like a person now and more like a shapely set of muscles pushing against steel. The sounds coming from him were wordless, primitive, groaning with defiance and anger. 

Donatello supposed that was the point—the bondage rendered his brother voiceless, helpless, turning him into a handy receptacle for whatever Donatello wanted. Leonardo's will, like his body, was trapped. And knowing that Leonardo couldn't do anything drew Donatello's hand up to his brother's throat, tracing the chain that had started this. He lightly touched along Leonardo's arms, admiring the faint bulge of toned, trained muscles against steel, then ran his palms down his brother's body, along his legs, cupping his tail—

Leonardo's groans changed. Defiance wilted and changed, defeated, into arousal. He shivered as his tail began to pulse with his heartbeat, growing hot in Donatello's hand, slowly swelling—

Leonardo cried out when Donatello let go. 

"No," Donatello murmured, talking to himself. "Not yet. Not...yet."

He would have Leonardo suffering this revenge for as long as he could. After all, his brother couldn't refuse. For now, intent on his first experiment, Donatello took a firm hold of the bars around his brother's legs. His own cock was already revealing itself out of his tail, and he tilted his hips, finding the right angle.

"S.h.e.l.l.d.o.n.," he called out, "begin recording. Save as 'Leon'....uh, no. Save as 'Bro'...gah, no. Save as...what's no one gonna look under? Oh! Save as 'Neutralizer Orb test run zero zero zero one'."

Leonardo's eyes widened as he realized what all the zeroes meant. Donatello stared into those eyes. Desperate, afraid of the many 'tests' he was about to endure, and yet closing in the heady rush of sensation as Donatello gently pushed up and into him. Leonardo squirmed, whimpering as he struggled to breathe—he could only focus on the sensation of being filled, how he couldn't move, how good it felt.

Donatello came back down on his feet, took a breath, and pushed in again. The sensation of sliding into his brother, pressing plastron against plastron, felt a thousand times more intense than his own hand or machines ever had. From the rising of Leonardo's tail, the low moans that his cries had turned into, the way he tensed in Donatello's hands, Leonardo found the experience just as intense. 

Despite himself, Leonardo panted for breath, overheating, feeling his face flush with warmth as he was used. His eyes watered with the intensity as he came first.

"You're almost as red as your eye marks," Donatello whispered, pushing deep into him, shuddering as he pressed close. "Liked it, huh?"

Leonardo gasped, shivering in what was suddenly cold air on his hot skin. He couldn't answer, surprised at how grateful he was for the gag that gave him an excuse to keep his mouth shut. When Donatello drew out, backing away to clean himself off and take care of himself, Leonardo was left in the air, held awkwardly in place on the bo.

Composing himself again, Donatello sat back down in his bunk, immensely satisfied with himself. Catching his breath, he looked at his brother, taking in the tiny struggles that seemed almost comical against the unyielding metal restraints.

"Experiment log,' Donatello murmured. "Success. Complete success. Subject is restrained fully and responded well to the first trial. Two minutes for the subject, three for myself. Next experiment—and all subsequent experiments, come to think of it—we'll try to extend that for a minute every time."

He stretched, yawning from the exertion. "Not...not just yet. Maybe in half an hour or so. There's plenty of time. Plenty...of time..."

The exhausted whimpers from the techbo, he didn't even hear as he drowsed, slipping into a nap.


End file.
